@panthexon
the hunt wasn’t clean. it was exhilarating. messy. satisfying. metamorphosis finishing, wolf teeth being spit into the dirt as his human ones grow back and bones snap and shorten, lazarus lies down in a nearby clearing. the lycan can’t recall where he left his clothes. can’t bring himself to care at that point. he needs a lake. or a river. but he’s still riding out the high of his meal. when he smells something inhuman nearby, he whips his head around and bares his teeth by instinct. familiar features meet his eyes, and he relaxes once more.
“hey,” he greets. “you kinda caught me at a bad time.” oschon always seems to, though. lazarus doesn’t mind. he just thinks its unbecoming to be covered in human blood and guts in the presence of a demigod.














